First-Kiss
by sullarco
Summary: sherlock had a plan to kiss john. it didn't work.


Sherlock Holmes planned to kiss John Watson.

It was something he did weeks in advance, like one organises an event or wedding, Sherlock had a very specific plan for the method in which he and John would kiss. When John was at the clinic, provided there was no case, he would sit at his desk and watch American movies or TV shows online (as they were the most over-dramatised) provided they had first-kisses involved (which they always did, often directly followed with sex). Eventually he moved on to clips from soap-operas, and dramas. Were he not studying as if for a case, he might have even been emotionally moved by them.

John, of course, suspected nothing. To be completely honest nothing had changed, besides the fact that Sherlock was decidedly less bored during the days with no cases, when John was not around, because he was busy with how he was going to initiate the kiss. He made several outlines. Romantic dates, spontaneity, ambush, guessing games, and 'accidentally' walking in on John in a state of undress were options all considered.

At this point he didn't have a complete plan and spent a lot of time with his face against the computer screen trying to see the exact mechanics of kissing someone. It was very difficult, and frustrating. He couldn't even practice on anyone else, to make the kiss perfect, like in the movies. As this was going to be Sherlock's first ever kiss (the first time he'd ever given any second thought to kissing at all) there was no one else he could imagine having a first kiss with than John. He did spend a bit of time in the bathroom, trying to kiss the mirror, to make sure (of course) that he didn't look ridiculous when he was kissing (although the act of kissing the mirror felt ridiculous). The mirror failed to reciprocate, but also it was cold and solid and not at all like a mouth. One afternoon he traveled to the book shop and spent a few hours in the erotica section, because maybe reading the words of kissing would be easier than trying to interpret pictures on a pixel-y computer screen.

It wasn't.

Nothing was straight forward and kissing never seemed to be the topic. It was always how forbidden everything was, mostly just intercourse, and there was entirely too much beating around the bush, anyway. Sherlock needed a straight forward approach.

While he still wanted to further his research on how to make his side of the kiss as good for John as possible, he had made the final touches to the procedure in which the kiss would happen.

First, he would get the shopping. John was always in a much more agreeable mood when Sherlock did unexpected helpful things, and also when he didn't have to carry four or more heavy bags back to the flat after work. Travel to the clinic as John's shift ended, and suggest dinner out. Actually consume a meal; he wanted John to have the feeling that it resembled a date, even if it was only subconsciously. Not eating would feel too much like a case. Travel back to the flat and suggest telly, or something equally as dull but providing companionable silence between them. Maybe even play (_actually play_) a bit of his violin, to soothe. Eventually, John would have to go to bed. That is when he would stand and kiss John, a good night kiss.

As it turns out, this did not happen.

Like anything worth happening, it was a scenario completely unplanned, and unpredictable until the very moment it happened, to which you realise it could have happened exactly no other way but that one.

It _happened_ in the early morning of the date Sherlock had set for his plan, after Lestrade came to him about a case. So early that John had not even left for the clinic, and was forced to attend instead to being Sherlock's assistant- no. Friend- n-no. Blogger- _no_. Colleague. Just... a colleague. They sat in the cab on the way to the crime scene in silence, both a bit irritated.

John because he always felt a mix of guilt and irritation between choosing Sherlock over work and Sarah and Sarah's couch. (Sherlock knew this)

Sherlock because he would have to wait at least 24-hours, depending how quickly he solved the case, to execute his plan. (John did not know this)

Lestrade showed them the crime scene. After six minutes, Sherlock made his deductions. John offered his medical input. Sherlock and John went about tracking down the murderer without Lestrade's consent (as they could do so no other way).

At about 4pm, Sherlock had a gun pressed against the back of his head. He could feel the cool metal pressed through his hair and against his skull, and it sent chills down his spine. So did the look on John's face. Both of them had been threatened with a gun before. John had been wrapped in Semtex, not to mention the snipers. For Sherlock, at least, this was different. He had never been directly threatened with a real gun at close-range before. He thought he should feel frightened. Maybe he did and the adrenaline pushed it from his mind, and just made him feel anxious and restless instead.

In this particular circumstance, there was a possibility of survival. This man obviously meant no malicious intent. He was just a terrified man with a gun who had committed murder and didn't want to get caught. John would not try to shoot this man if he ran, but the man didn't know that. There was a very real possibility he would chicken out and run without any shots being fired. The other option was, being hesitant and jumpy, he may fire with any sudden movement or misunderstanding.

John made a relieved noise when the man hit Sherlock across the head with the gun instead of shooting him, and ran off. He didn't go after the murderer. Sherlock laughed, feeling a little hysterical. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Lestrade; which direction the man was going, his general appearance, and where he was likely to go based on the part of London they were in. John checked Sherlock's head for damage while he did so, and it took him ten seconds longer to send the text than if John wasn't touching him.

John called a cab and they went back home. As Sherlock watched the blocks go by he realised he felt dizzy, with the adrenaline wearing off. He doubted it was from getting hit. At the flat, Sherlock sat down at the (only half-clean) kitchen table. John paced about in the sitting room, too restless to sit. Despite Sherlock's reassurances that he was okay, John did not calm down.

"John, it's fine." Sherlock stood, feeling a little restless himself, leaned against the sink and stared down at the drain. "You and I have been through worse."

He was going to continue. He was going to tell John the likelihood of actually getting shot given the position, the nature of the man, and what he had already been through, and that the chances were less than half. But he couldn't. John had made his way into the kitchen and grabbed at Sherlock's hair, turning his head around and kissing him full on the mouth. Sherlock's body followed the movement and his hands went to John's arms, and the surprise of the kiss left him little time to think about what was actually happening. He only made the connection that John's lips were moving, so his should be, too.

It was desperate, a little rough, maybe a bit sloppy. The thoughts of a perfect romantic kiss that Sherlock had planned for left his brain, and all he could think was how good John's mouth felt and how he couldn't get enough of it. His aim was bad, catching the corner and John's upper lip most of the time. He was breathing too hard through his nose, no time to inhale when his mouth was so delightfully occupied. Sherlock almost smiled, but it was a bit hard to smile and kiss at the same time so he resisted. His hands couldn't stay still. Now that John's lips were on him he felt he had permission to touch and he had too as much as possible now that he could. Arms, shoulders, neck, collar, adam's apple, jawline, ears, hair- Sherlock loved how the short little bristles of hair on the back of John's neck shifted through his fingers.

Eventually John calmed down from the kind of 'jesus christ we're alive' desperation and broke away, very softly. Licked his lips once, eyes trained on Sherlock's shoulder. They both seemed to come back to their senses a little bit.

Wait, no. No no no no nononononono_nonononono_. It wasn't supposed to be this way. It was supposed to be soft and gentle and romantic and perfect like in films. Sherlock leaned down and their foreheads touched, and he slid down, until he was at John's mouth again. His eyelashes kissed John's cheek.

"That one didn't count." He mumbled against John's lips, then pressed against them with his own.

Soft, very soft. Simple, undemanding, he could actually think. Feel John's nose against his cheek and catch his lips as they puckered slightly at just the right time. Could shift his arms and lay his hands on John's waist, pull him closer and feel how they fit together (perfectly). He captured John's lips over and over again, almost painfully slowly, cataloguing the way John kissed and tried to copy it (since he was a novice and John was a spectacular kisser). It was good, but the kiss didn't go the way he thought it would.

When he pulled away, John's eyes were closed, his mouth open a bit like he wasn't ready to stop just yet. And his lips were very pink, almost red, and moist, and he thought about how wonderful John looked. _Very beautiful_, he thought.

John's eyes opened, and for long moments all they did was stare. "You're smiling." John said eventually without looking away.

"Am I?" Sherlock was, and it grew a bit wider. "I want to kiss you again. On the couch, though. We've already kissed in the kitchen."

John laughed. He giggled. It was hard not to. "Yes, alright, the couch, then."

So Sherlock Holmes did kiss John Watson.

It didn't go the way he planned.

It wasn't the perfect kiss he wanted.

But it could have happened exactly no other way but that one, and _that_ was perfect.


End file.
